Boulevard Nights
by SushiBomb
Summary: Right now, this boy was alone, injured and afraid, and Fuuta knew he was the only one that could help him. For Reidluver's Birthday. Now a three-shot. Rated for subject matter and themes. Fuuta X Fran friendship. Enjoy.
1. In those Twilight Hours

A/N: Hey guys. New Story in three…two…one!

This is for my darling pal Reidluver's extremely belated Birthday! This fic is based on a conversation we had a while back about a conversation _she_ had a while back with a friend…confusing much?

Warnings: None really. I guess subject matter and themes. But nothing too serious this time.

Setting and timeline: This takes place in Italy, a year before Fuuta goes to Japan to meet Tsuna. I'm not going to attempt to figure out all that /parallel universe/time jump/ TYL crap, because it annoys me and it has no relevance to the plot of this story at all. Just take it for what it is. Fuuta is seven in this story, and Fran is around nine or ten.

Okay done babbling, read on!

Disclaimer: Sushi*Bomb does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Not even page one. Sucks.

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><p><em>In those Twilight Hours…<em>

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><p><em>Imola, Province of Bologna, Italy, 1994<em>

If you were to look up Imola among the thousands of rankings in Fuuta's book, you would see that it ranked first as the place to best see the stars at night. And it also ranked dead last for fun things to do, _other_ than that. In short, the only semi-interesting thing to do in this little town of nearly seventy thousand people was star-gazing.

Oh, and walking around aimlessly until you got so tired you walked into things.

Which happened to be exactly what Fuuta was doing at the moment. Truth be told, it was more than a bit odd seeing a seven year old boy wandering around at such odd hours of the night with a giant red book clutched in his tiny arms, but then again, there wasn't really anyone up at three-thirty in the morning to tell the young brunette to go on home to his parents.

And so, Fuuta yawned widely as he walked up Santa Lucia Boulevard, narrowly missing a light post that had conveniently planted itself in his path when he had had his eyes closed not but a few seconds ago. His parents had been arguing again, about what he honestly couldn't say, but they were being so loud that he couldn't fall asleep. After over an hour of listening to the vicious back and forth between the two, Fuuta hastily threw on a coat and his thick scarf, gathered up his ranking book and hopped out the window of the two story home, into the tree outside his window, shimmied down, and made a run for it.

"I guess it's a good thing they were being so loud," Fuuta said quietly to no one in particular as he craned his head to look up at the stars hovering above him. A small smile graced his petite face as he spotted Orion's Belt, the three main stars that formed the constellation twinkling in perfect succession. Fuuta planted himself on the ground momentarily, all the while flipping to a half-filled page in his book, and quickly jotted down 'Orion' as number one most beautiful constellation in the sky. If it hadn't been for his quarreling parents, he never would have gotten the chance to see this marvelous sight.

He had seen many of the constellations on different nights; his parents fought quite often, so many a night was spent wandering the quiet, desolate streets of Imola with only his handy-dandy ranking book for company. He had nothing to fear; Imola didn't rank anywhere near the top in terms of crime rate, so Fuuta felt perfectly safe walking the streets in the twilight hours.

It was his favorite time of the night, to be completely honest.

He didn't really have many friends; the other kids in his town thought he was weird, carrying around that big book all the time and randomly going into those freakish zero-gravity trances, and then simply writing stuff down like nothing had happened afterwards.

Not that it bothered the small boy. He much prefered his own company, as well as the company of his rankings. He took comfort in their perfect accuracy, as they were the only things that were absolute in his young, tumultuous life.

After nearly an hour of walking down Santa Lucia, Fuuta came to the busy roundabout that merged into the main road out of Imola and into the bigger cities miles away.

The brunette shrugged apathetically.

"Guess it's time to go home now." He mumbled to himself as he readjusted his ranking book under one arm and turned to head back the way he came. He absently looked up at the sky again as he wandered back down the long winding boulevard, back down to the Vittorio Padovani suburb, where he lived in a modest, two story townhome with his mother and father.

This really was the best time of the night. With the exception of the streetlights, everything in the town was shut off, and in the near-total darkness, the stars and the new moon lit the sky in a magnificent display. The sheer bravura of the universe, with all of its brilliant, swirling colors and spiraling nebulas in the distance, brought a peaceful, content smile to the small boy's cherubic face.

He could sleep in the morning. The real show happened at night, when no one was around. It was a tender moment of intimacy between the vast universe and the small boy whose mind was intrinsically linked to it.

As he rounded the bend, Fuuta suddenly heard voices. It sounded like two men, and they were speaking in harsh, angry whispers, bickering silently. Fuuta quickly hid himself behind a building and poked his head around to look.

He spotted two men standing near a stop sign on the opposite side of the street. They were both dressed in crisp, white slacks and t-shirts. They appeared to be uniforms of some sort. To Fuuta, they looked like doctors, or in the very least people who worked in some sort of clinical setting. They seemed upset about something, as the two were arguing quietly as they shone their flashlights into a random alley. They appeared to be looking for something. Or some_one_.

Fuuta clutched his book tighter to himself. They were both large, intimidating men, with their sharp, military style crew cut hair and no-nonsense faces. In short, not people you would want to run into at such odd hours of the night.

_I'll just take the short-cut home._ Fuuta thought to himself as he backed away from his makeshift hiding place and made to sneak down the street when the two men had their backs turned. And he would have made it too, if that empty soda can hadn't been in his path.

Fuuta's clear brown eyes widened in fear as his shoe made contact with the empty aluminum can and sent it flying down the deserted sidewalk. He heard the men walk quickly out of the alley.

"Did you hear that?" He heard one of the burly orderlies shout to the other. Fuuta felt his heart begin to race as the two men looked over in his direction. He was out in the open with no place to hide. And by the looks on their faces, he was in quite a bit a trouble.

So much for getting away quietly.

"Hey you! What are you doing out here?"

Fuuta was frozen in place. The small brunette whimpered in fear and squeezed his eyes shut as he clutched his book protectively to his shaking chest. He heard the heavy footsteps of the two men getting closer and closer until he felt the soft heat of a flashlight upon his pale face.

"It's just some snot-nosed kid." One of the men said in a gruff, irritated voice. Fuuta dared to crack an eye open. He shyly glanced up at the two men who were speaking quietly again. After a few tense moments, one of the men knelt down to eye level.

"Is there some reason you're out here at four-thirty in the morning kid?" He asked, his tone impatient. Fuuta nervously picked at a loose thread in his jacket, trying desperately to avoid eye contact with the man.

"N-no, sir. I just c-couldn't sleep. So I took a walk." The two men shared skeptical looks. The man that was kneeling glared back at him after a moment.

"How old are you?"

"Seven."

The orderly shone his light directly into the young boy's face as he stared hard into Fuuta's terrified eyes, looking for any hint of deception. Fuuta stared back, wide-eyed and trembling. After a few silent seconds, the man put his flashlight down and stood up.

"Alright, he's just a kid. He has no part in this. Let's just keep looking." He said to the other man, before turning a back to Fuuta with a hard look in his dark eyes.

"Kid, run on home. This isn't the time to be wandering around. There's a patient loose from the psychiatric hospital." He said seriously. Fuuta's eyes widened frightfully.

_Osservanza _was a small, private hospital for the mentally ill less than a mile from his neighborhood. He had seen it a couple of times before, when he was smaller. It was a creepy place; tall, barbed-wire fences lined the perimeter of the compound, and there always seemed to be a constant aura of evil and sadness radiating from it. And, Fuuta noticed once, that no matter how sunny it was, it was always gloomy and dark over the old compound.

Fuuta did his best to forget that such a place was within walking distance to his home.

And now a patient was loose. Fuuta didn't even want to imagine what someone locked up in a place like that could look like, or do to him, for that matter. He felt an involuntary shiver crawl up his spine.

"Are you close to your house?" One of the men barked. Fuuta started at the sudden, brusque question, but nodded in the positive.

"I live on Vittorio." He responded anxiously. The man nodded, deeming that a safe distance away.

"Then go on home, kid. This patient is dangerous, and he won't hesitate to hurt anyone that tries to keep him from escaping. Get home as quick as you can, and make sure you lock the doors and windows." The other man said as he shone his light into a small revine.

"Yes s-sir." Fuuta stuttered quietly before scuttling down the street away from the two men. His night of peaceful wandering had turned into a terrifying race home.

"Kid!"

Fuuta turned back quickly at the shout. The man who had been kneeling with him before walked briskly to where he was standing. He crouched down on his haunches and put a large, heavy hand on Fuuta's shoulder.

"And if you happen to see anything unusual, any little thing you think is out of the ordinary or looks a bit…_off_, be it tonight or tomorrow, " He paused with a steely glare as he pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to him, "please be sure to give us a call as soon as possible."

Fuuta nodded as he took the card and tucked it away in his coat pocket. The man patted Fuuta's head as he stood up and with that, the two men walked around a corner and disappeared out of Fuuta's line of vision. With the two orderlies gone, Fuuta suddenly felt very alone and very vulnerable standing in the middle of the street at nearly five in the morning all by himself with a potential maniac on the loose.

He immediately dashed off in the direction of his neighborhood, doing his best to ignore the once comforting, now terrifying darkness of the dimly lit avenue. In his mind, Fuuta was half-expecting an axe-wielding maniac to come jumping out from around every corner,every small patch of widerness, anywhere, really.

If this patient was so 'dangerous,' why on Earth had those two guards let a pathetic little seven year old boy run home all by himself?

He clutched his book even tighter against his now slightly trembling chest as his eyes darted left and right, starting at every little noise he heard. He quickened his pace, suddenly feeling even more nervous and afraid. He was only a few minutes away from his street now.

Fuuta felt exhausted from running all the way up the particularly lengthy stretch of road that made up Santa Lucia Boulevard, and in his fear, he felt as if the street wsa stretching out further and further to keep him from reaching his home.

After several harried minutes, Fuuta finally skidded to a stop on his street. The small brunette put his hands on his knees and tried to calm his labored breathing. His house was still all the way down in the middle of the block, so he had to make this break short. He did not want to be caught alone at this hour with a crazy person. After regaining control of his breathing, Fuuta took one deep breath to collect his nerves and began the brief trek down the street to his house.

"I'm almost there," He said to himself reassuringly as he tucked his book underneath his arm. As his home finally came into view, Fuuta allowed a tiny smile of relief to creep onto his face.

_Thank goodness._ He thought to himself as he walked up the path to his gate and, as quietly as he could, unhooked the latch and crept in. He quickly rehooked the lock on the gate before tip-toeing silently around to the backyard to the tree where his window was located. After tossing his book up into the tree, Fuuta prepared himself to make the short climb up.

...Until he heard the metal links of the neighbor's gate move behind him.

The brunette stopped, his small body paralyzed with fear. Slowly, he turned his head to look over his shoulder, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. He had gotten this far okay, why now?

_It's just a squirrel or something._ He thought in a desperate attempt to reassure himself that-

-There **wasn't** someone standing in his backyard at five in the morning. Fuuta's heart nearly stopped at the sight of the vague silhouette standing huddled in the corner by the opposite gate.

"H-hello?" He squeaked, his voice coming out in a choked, high-pitched stutter. Maybe it was one of the orderlies from earlier? The figure said nothing. Fuuta felt tiny beads of sweat forming on the back of his neck.

_It's the escaped patient! He's here to eat me, or beat me to death, or gauge out my eyes with his fingers, or-_

The figure suddenly stepped forward.

Fuuta's mental rambling immediately ceased and all of the color left his face as the shadowed figure took several slow, lethargic steps toward him, their breathing coming in slow, dogged pants.

Fuuta's fear momentarily subsided, replaced with a sudden curiosity.

It appeared as if the person was having some difficulty walking. They were groping blindly along the gate, almost dragging themselves, much like a zombie would. Fuuta's head tilted to the side inquisitively. Now that he got a good luck at the figure, it was actually a bit stunted in stature. Not like an adult, but more like… a child.

He heard the silhouette groan shakily, as if in pain. And they were coming towards him.

_They must have heard me walk in through the gate!_ He shouted frantically in his mind as he watched the shadowed person creep along the perimeter of the fence. They pulled themselves at a more frenzied pace along the gate towards Fuuta, whose sense of fear returned tenfold. The boy backed up towards the large tree in absolute terror as the shadow stumbled away from the gate and ambled towards him. Fuuta could hear the person's labored breathing as they groped in the air, as if reaching out to him.

But after looking at the figure feeling around for a few seconds, Fuuta realized that the person didn't seem to realize exactly where he was. They were feeling around blindly with their arms outstretched, as if they were blind, or at the very least had trouble seeing in the near pitch black of his backyard.

As if to corroborate that theory, the figure suddenly stumbled forward and tripped, their breathing strained and shallow. Fuuta decided he would use this to his advantage.

He slapped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to keep absolutely silent as he inched his way towards the tree. When he was close enough, he would make a mad dash up the tree and into the safety of his room. He unconsciously put a hand to his pant pocket, where the card the man had given him earlier was tucked away.

He tip-toed as stealthily as he could towards the giant tree, not taking his eyes off of the person, who was now moving their head from side to side, as if attempting to look around as they stood back up on wobbling legs.

Fuuta put his hands out to feel for the tree as he stepped cautiously, albeit more hurriedly, in its direction. He was almost home free when, in a furious betrayal by his beloved universe, he stepped on a lone twig on the ground.

The brunette gave a strangled squeak as he heard the small branch snap under his converse and looked over his shoulder, eyes wide with fear. The person appeared to have heard the noise, and was lumbering slowly in his direction, now much closer than Fuuta realized.

He heard them stumble closer and closer, until they were just a few feet away. In defense, Fuuta held his ranking book up over his face and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for his inevitable fate. But surprisingly, he felt no hit, no knife, no nails tearing into the soft flesh of his face.

Instead, he felt a soft hand cover his fingers at the knuckles.

The long, nimble fingers of the person's hand patted his own hand, as well as the book clutched so tightly in it, experimentally, as if to decipher human from object. Fuuta stood frozen, not even chancing a breath. The hand closed gently over his wrist, as if seeking comfort in the presence of another human being. And in that moment, all of the fear and terror he felt completely vanished, that previous feeling of curiosity quickly took their place.

He felt no malice, no ill-intent from this being standing before him. If anything, Fuuta realized, they seemed to be more terrified than he was, if the slight tremble of the pale hand clutching blindly at his sleeve was any indication.

"A-are you okay?" He whispered cautiously. Afraid or not, this child was a patient in a psychiatric hospital, and the two men from earlier said that he was dangerous. Fuuta suddenly felt a bit puzzled. This child certainly didn't give off that _killer_ vibe. But still, better safe than sorry.

The boy, as Fuuta had the feeling that was what he was, gasped as his breathing became slightly less labored than it had been. He seemed to be relieved by Fuuta's presence. The hand grasping his sleeve tightened a bit, but not painfully so. More as if to confirm that Fuuta was indeed there and not going to hurt him.

"Help." The boy whispered back, in a quiet, raspy voice. Fuuta nodded quickly. This boy may have been an escaped mental patient, but right now, he was alone and afraid, and Fuuta was the only one who could help him.

"Wait right here. Don't move, okay?" Fuuta said reassuringly. The boy slowly loosened his grip on his arm, and Fuuta ran up on the back porch and waved his arms around to activate the porchlight. After a few seconds, the motion-activated porchlight came on, illuminating the better half of Fuuta's backyard. With the yard lit properly, the small boy looked back to the creeping silhouette.

The figure did indeed turn out to be a boy; Fuuta guessed him to be around his age, perhaps a couple of years older. He couldn't see his face clearly, as he had some sort of high-tech looking metallic contraption on his head. It was covering the top of his head as well as the top half of his face.

_So that's why he couldn't see me._ Fuuta realized as he hopped off of the porch and walked slowly back over to the waiting child, as not to startle him. It was a wonder he managed to make it so far away from the compound, especially with those two guards tracking him.

The boy was dressed in a light blue hospital gown, which Fuuta noticed was covered in dirt and blood. The small brunette grimaced as he took in the thin, bloodied gashes running up one of the boy's arms. He was hurt.

If he had had any doubts about taking him in before, they were certainly nearly gone now, replaced with the need to aid this child. The boy was wobbling from side to side in fatigue, and he looked like he would faint any second.

"Hey," Fuuta whispered as he hesitantly reached for the boy's hand. He felt the boy's fingers cup his own hand reflexively, "I'll be right back okay? I have to open the door." He felt the fingers tighten anxiously.

"Don't worry," He said quietly as he patted the boy's hand reassuringly, "I'll only be gone for a minute at the most. Just sit right here." Fuuta finished as he tugged the boy over to the steps of the porch and gently pushed him into a seated position on the top step.

"Stay right here." He said one last time before turning away and running at full speed toward the large tree and jumping up onto the lowest hanging branch. He quickly climbed up the tree, grabbing his ranking book on the way up, and crawled in through the window. Fuuta offhandedly threw his ranking book on his bed and shrugged off his coat and sneakers before running out of his room and down the hall. He made sure to step as stealthily as possible by his parent's room, so as not to wake them.

Once past their bedroom, Fuuta glided down the stairs and into the kitchen, groping around blindly for the light switch. He glanced in the direction of the backyard door, where the light from the porch was filtering in through the cracks in the drawn shutters. It was there that he paused for a moment, in order to consider the situation he was in. There was a boy outside that door; a mental patient from the creepy psychiatric hospital, and he was supposed to be dangerous.

Fuuta may have been only seven years old, but he knew a potential catastrophic situation when he saw one. If he let this kid in, and he did indeed turn out to be as dangerous as the two orderlies said he was, then he was putting not only himself at risk, but also his parents, who were blissfully unaware of the current predicament as they slept peacefully upstairs.

But then Fuuta thought about the other side of the situation. He truly hadn't felt any threat when the boy reached for him. There was no malice or ill-intent in the boy's movements or demeanor; Fuuta had experienced those types of emotions before, and what he felt from the boy in the yard was completely different from any of the numerous thugs and mafiosos that had made attempts to kidnap him before.

Fuuta steeled himself as he marched determinedly towards the door. Mental patient or not, the boy was all alone and injured out there and he was terrified. Fuuta knew he was the only one at this point that could offer any sort of assistance to the boy.

He slowly put his hand on the knob and then unlocked the door that lead out to the backyard.

And sure enough, the boy was sitting right where he had left him, waiting patiently. At the sudden noise behind him, the boy turned his head and stuck one of his bloodied arms out in front of him, probably for Fuuta to grab hold of.

Fuuta walked over to him and crouched down.

"Hey," He began quietly, "Can I ask you something?"

The boy nodded silently.

"Are-are you, um…dangerous?" Fuuta asked hesitantly. He had to know for sure that this boy wouldn't hurt him or his parents if he helped him. The boy's lips curled slightly at the corners in an almost imperceptible but pained smile.

"No." He said, voice so low Fuuta strained to hear him.

One look at that smile, and Fuuta inherently knew he could trust this boy. Or in the very least, trust him enough to take him in and treat his injuries. He didn't know what he was capable of, but clearly, he was in no condition to try anything.

Fuuta nodded determinedly as he grabbed the boy's hand and tugged him up off of the step gently, guiding him towards the open door.

The boy was truly exhausted, Fuuta could see. His slow, lethargic steps were crooked and uneven, and he was stumbling over his own feet. It seemed as if he was not only tired, but heavily medicated. Several times, he would have tripped if Fuuta had not been holding him.

After several strenuous minutes, the two finally made it inside. The boy collapsed to his knees in an exhausted heap, his breathing coming in shallow pants again. Fuuta tried not to stare hard at the trail of blood droplets along the floor leading up to thin slit up the boy's arm. Suprisingly, it actually looked worse than it was, Fuuta realized in the clearer fluorescent lighting of the kitchen.

He took that time to really take in the boy's appearance.

The boy was several inches taller than him, and quite thin, but not to the point that Fuuta would suspect malnutrition. He was very pale, as if he had never been outside. By his labored breathing and fatigue, Fuuta guessed that to be pretty accurate. As he had noticed earlier, the boy's head was covered by some sort of device. It looked like one of those visors boys wore in arcades when they played virtual reality games, only this one looked much more advanced, and very expensive.

On the back of it, Fuuta saw what appeared to be a flat, high-tech looking number pad with a black screen on top. It seemed to be some sort of locking mechanism. The device looked complicated, and apparently it was extremely heavy, as the boy had trouble keeping his head up on his own. Under the device, Fuuta saw silky, shoulder-length strands of mint green hair poking out.

_Green hair?_ He thought to himself quizzically. He had never seen someone with green hair before. He seemed a little too young to be dying his hair that color…but then again, he was a patient in a psych hospital. Fuuta guessed that the idea wasn't really so far-fetched after all.

Fuuta closed the door slowly as he stared at the boy lying tiredly against one of the cabinets. He would help this boy for now, and then figure out the rest in the morning.

Hopefully, he wouldn't regret this potentially idiotic choice he had just made.

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><p>This was getting pretty long, so I had to make it into a two shot. But that's seriously it, I swear on my life! If you are enjoying it so far, please leave me a nice review! I'd love to know what you all think so far.<p>

Chapter two will be up soon, probably later in the week if I manage my time wisely.

Well, see ya loves!

S*B


	2. I freed the butterfly

A/N: Okay peeps, I lied. This is officially a three-shot. I write too much! D:

I just couldn't fit everything I wanted to happen in this fic into two chapters. SO I'll try to wrap it up in three. But my problem, and I don't know if anyone does this too, is that I make stories up as I go. I just can't plan stories out in advance, because I never stick to an outline anyway lol I usually have a general idea of what I want to happen in mind, and write out little scenes and details in my handy-dandy writer's notebook I carry around with me. That's as close as I'll get to planning a story out.

Well whatever, it's not like you guys mind or anything…right?

Okay firstly, some background information:

_Osservanza_ was a real psychiatric hospital in Imola, Italy. It was built in 1890, and underwent several major restorations and changes in ownership, which resulted in a large influx of patients not just from Imola, but from all over Italy. It formally closed down back in December 1996. Today, it stands as an abandoned set of buildings, and often draws photographers because of its beauty. Admittedly, it is a creepy looking place though. It's like a macabre sort of beauty, really.

In fact, a lot of the landscapes and locals in the story are real, because I wanted it to make sense. Santa Lucia and Vittorio are real places in Imola, although I'm not sure of their true purposes. But for the story, they are a street and a suburb, respectively.

Second, in regards to Fran's back story, if you are a bit confused by the vague details of his escape in this chapter, as well as the previous chapter, don't worry. I'm being very sketchy about it for a reason. It's not supposed to make sense yet although I'm certain some of you can kind of see where I'm going with it. I have a whole fanon plot concerning several undisclosed plot holes in the show, but I don't want to give it away just yet. But I think you all will find it quite interesting, believe me.

I plan to write a story about Fran's life later on this year, 'Crawl with the Heretics' style. All will be revealed when I get around to putting it together for you guys, promise!

And thanks to everyone who reviewed/faved/alerted so far! It's always appreciated guys.

Alright done babbling.

Read on, lovelies~

Disclaimer: Sushi*Bomb does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. And the church bell tolls for thee D:

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><p><em>I freed the butterfly from the glass jar…<em>

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><p>"…"<p>

"So…"

"…"

Fuuta scratched his head awkwardly as he sat across from the green-haired boy. At the moment, the small brunette really wished he had thought this through a bit more thoroughly, instead of blindly inviting this boy into his home without any real idea of what he was going to do to help him.

The boy just sat quietly exactly where Fuuta had deposited him, against the opposite cabinet, with his skinny legs tucked against his chest and his arms wrapped around them protectively. Fuuta inched closer to observe the wound on the boy's left arm a bit better. It was a bloody mess, but to Fuuta's relief, all of the blood was seeping through a long but paper-thin gash along the inside of the boy's forearm.

There were so many questions Fuuta's curious seven-year old mind was producing a mile-a-minute to ask the silent escapee, he couldn't even fathom where to begin. Fuuta supposed the most obvious question to ask first would have to be:

"So, um…what exactly happened to you?" He asked quietly. The boy's head tilted up at the timid question. The two sat in tense silence for several minutes before the boy finally spoke.

"I…" He began in a low, almost droning voice, "…I don't…really know." He finished before erupting into a fit of hacking coughs and wheezes. Fuuta hurriedly rushed to the boy's side in concern, sparing a nervous glance towards the stairs. He wasn't sure what he would do if either of his parents woke up and came downstairs to find an escaped mental patient in their kitchen.

After several minutes, the boy calmed down, but his breathing was heavily strained. He leaned his head back tiredly against the cabinet as he tried to slow his heavy pants.

"Do you want something to drink? Like water or something?" Fuuta murmured timidly. The green-haired child swallowed thickly before nodding his head once. Fuuta quickly poured him a glass of water and placed it in the boy's hands, gently cupping his hands over the glass to guide his mouth to the rim.

The boy took several meek sips, as if to test the water first. After a discerning second, he took a couple more self-assured gulps before sighing contentedly. Now that he was a bit more relaxed, Fuuta felt his own previous anxiety fade away. The petite child sat down next to the escapee as the boy quickly drained his glass. Once he was finished, Fuuta took the glass and set it aside.

"I guess now, I should probably clean that cut on your arm. My mommy says that if you leave a cut open like that, it'll get dirt and stuff in it and it'll get infected." Fuuta said knowingly. His mother was a nurse for the local hospital, and as such, Fuuta understood the importance of first aid, as well as very basic knowledge of how to clean his own cuts and scrapes when he hurt himself. As far as he was concerned, this cut was just a little bit bigger than anything he had ever gotten.

The boy nodded slowly.

"We need to go upstairs to the bathroom, but you have to be really quiet. My parents are sleeping." Fuuta whispered as he helped the mint-haired child up off the floor and lead him quickly but patiently up the stairs and into the bathroom. Once inside, Fuuta placed him on the floor leaning against the bathtub, before carefully pushing the door closed.

"…Is my arm bleeding a lot?" Fuuta heard a barely audible whisper sound from across the bathroom as he searched for a washcloth and the anti-bacterial soap his mother insisted on buying.

"Um…yeah, but it looks a lot worse than it is, really." He said honestly. No point in lying, as the boy was, in the very least, aware that he was injured to some degree. Fuuta ran the washcloth under warm water and dropped some soap onto the cloth. He rung it out efficiently before walking back over and planting himself in front of the boy. Fuuta gingerly took the boy's arm and propped it up against his knee.

"Okay…this might sting a bit at first, but it'll go away in a few seconds." Fuuta warned as he began dabbing the cloth around the gash to get rid of the excess blood. The boy shrugged tiredly.

"Does it hurt?" Fuuta asked worriedly when the boy twitched suddenly. He had just begun cleaning over the wound. The boy gave him another half-hearted shrug.

"Not really." He said mutely.

"Okay good." Fuuta said with an awkward laugh. After a few minutes the wound was clean, and Fuuta began wrapping a bandage around the boy's forearm in order to prevent any sort of infection. The boy clearly had enough to be anxious about as it was, he certainly didn't need to add a life-threatening bacterial infection due to improper wound care to the list.

At that moment, a thought occurred to the small brunette child. He hadn't properly introduced himself.

"By the way, my name is Fuuta. What's your name?" He asked amicably. The boy shrugged.

"I don't know." Fuuta's smile morphed into a dejected frown. "You don't?" The boy shook his head slowly to confirm his statement. Fuuta sighed as he gingerly wrapped the thick gauze around the slim forearm. After a few minutes, the boy suddenly spoke.

"It was an I.V." He said simply. Fuuta stopped wrapping and looked up at the mint-haired child curiously.

"An I.V?" He repeated in confusion. The boy nodded slowly as he tiredly folded his legs in front of him indian-style.

"…He…didn't have time to …take the tape off."

Fuuta's head tilted to the side in confusion. Now that he was speaking a bit more, it was becoming clear that the boy was not only exhausted to the point of collapsing (which was understandable, given his curent situation), but it appeared that the boy was very heavily medicated. He was speaking in slurred, broken sentences, trying to think through the fog in his head and piece together what happened to him.

"What do you mean?"

"…uh…" He stuttered tiredly as he thought a bit harder. "The I.V. was taped to my arm…but he…he didn't have time to take it off. So he pulled me out of bed and… then it cut me."

At that moment, Fuuta understood what had happened. The boy had been forcibly removed from the hospital, and in the person's apparent rush to, either free him or kidnap him Fuuta was uncertain, they couldn't be bothered to gently remove the I.V. from the boy's arm, and so, as they rushed out of the room, the I.V. was ripped out, leading to the long bloodly gash. No wonder the cut was so thin.

Fuuta grimaced.

Those must have been some powerful drugs the kid was on, because he couldn't imagine how painful that would have been had the boy been completely lucid. Fuuta quickly tied off the bandage and settled back to look at his handiwork. Not bad, if he did say so himself.

The small boy picked up the rest of the bandages, along with the now bloodied washcloth and made to dispose of them when the green-haired boy asked a peculiar question.

"What year is it?" Fuuta started at the meek voice across the bathroom. He turned back with a confused look on his cherubic face. "Year?" He repeated.

The boy nodded.

"It's 1994."

At that, the boy's head moved up quickly, as if in complete shock to hear that. Fuuta threw the bloodied supplies in the trashcan, making sure to throw toilet paper and other such items on top to keep his parents from noticing, and planted himself back in front of the boy.

"What happened to you in that place?" He asked, genuinely curious now. The boy's lips pursed as he thought a bit harder.

"I…I've been asleep…" He said slowly, as if trying to make sense of the idea himself.

"Asleep? Like…in a coma?" Fuuta asked, with his head tilted to the side in confusion.

"Mmm." The escaped patient murmured with an unsure nod of his head.

"Why were you in a coma?" Fuuta pressed. Even if the boy's mind was still fuzzy, the drugs he was on were beginning to wear off, and he figured that if he kept asking questions, the boy would start to remember bits and pieces, until they had a coherent idea of what had happened.

The mint-haired youth suddenly frowned a bit.

"I can't remember." He whispered, his voice low and monotone.

"Well, in any case, now that your cut is okay, I should call the hospital so that they know you're safe-"

The boy shook his head quickly.

"Please don't, they'll put me to sleep again!" The boy whispered heatedly as he clutched Fuuta's arm tightly. Fuuta's eyes widened at the plea.

"But you're a patient there. That means you're sick. You need to go back so they can help you." He said calmly, in order to try to ease the boy's rising panic. The boy shook his head again, more urgently this time.

"No, you don't understand. I _can't_ go back there. Please don't call. They're bad people in that place. They did bad things to us, to me."

Fuuta stared at the boy curiously. He had always known that there was something weird about that place, and by the fear present in the boy's tone and frantic movements, it was apparent that that gut feeling he had about the goings-on in _Osservanza_ wasn't to far off.

But now what?

What would this boy do to survive? He couldn't stay here for long, because Fuuta's parents would most certainly call the hospital if they got wind of it. The complications of this situation seemed never-ending in Fuuta's still wholesomely innocent seven-year old mind, but as far as he was concerned, if this boy was afraid to go back, then he most certainly wouldn't be the one to send him back.

Fuuta placed a hand warmly over the boy's own slightly trembling hand.

"Okay, I won't call then." He said, voice calm and serious. The boy's whole body collapsed with relief.

"Thank you." He whispered around a sigh.

"But you know," Fuuta began questioningly, " you don't really seem like a dangerous person at all."

"Hmm?"

"Well," Fuuta started as he maneuvered the boy back to his spot on the floor against the tub, "When I ran into the guards earlier, they basically made you out to be this crazed maniac running around slitting everyone's throats open if they tried to stop you. But you're not. You're just a kid like me. I wonder, what did you do that made them say you were so dangerous?"

The boy shrugged.

"I don't…_think_ I'm dangerous. But the boy said…" Fuuta looked up inquiringly at the sudden pause, curiosity piqued again.

"What? What did he say?"

Before Fuuta could press him further, the boy put his small hands on the metal visor still impairing his vision. He felt over it inquisitively, his thin fingers trailing over the glossy surface of the visor and over each of the numbers on the keypad.

"What is that thing anyway?" Fuuta asked quietly as he walked behind the boy to examine the keypad on the back. He moved the boy's head this way and that, inspecting the curious-looking device with a discerning pout.

"It's called a Synapse Inhibitor."

Fuuta glanced around to the boy's face at the low utterance strangely.

"A what?"

"It…kinda scrambles your brain. It blocks the synapse signals in your head, and redirects the electrical messages."

Fuuta's face was perfectly blank.

"Um…"

The boy's lips twitched upward slightly.

"It means that when this thing is on, it scrambles the messages my body is trying to send to my brain, so I can't process any information through my senses. It also blocks messages from one part of the brain to the other, so I'm basically a vegetable when this thing is on."

Fuuta smiled awkwardly. "Oh…okay."

At that, the boy laughed lightly.

"It's okay, I don't really get it either. That's what the boy that helped me escape told me."

"I wonder why they put it on you…" Fuuta trailed off. The boy turned his head towards him.

"The boy that helped me escape said it's because I can do things. With my mind, I mean."

"What kind of things?"

"Things that people shouldn't know how to do." The boy said grimly. Fuuta felt a chill go up his spine at the bitter tone of the boy's voice. He decided to drop this line of questioning for now, lest the boy become agitated.

"Can you remember how you got here? How did you get away from the hospital without being able to see?" Fuuta asked quickly, not missing the opportunity to find out what happened to this boy. Fuuta's curiosity was insatiable.

"…uh…" The boy uttered, lips pursed slightly again in thought. After a few seconds, he spoke. "The boy. He took me… from my room. It… it took a long time, because I couldn't feel my legs. I had been asleep for so long. He led me out to the woods…he…he kept saying that I needed to survive, and that one day we would meet again."

"Why did he take you?"

"He said that I was like him. And that people like us, we…we have ways of finding each other. He massaged my legs for a while, until I could kinda walk on my own again. And then he said he had to go back. He said something then…I can't really remember. He said it so quietly…"

Fuuta stared at the boy as he leaned his head back in thought.

"What did he say?" The boy questioned himself silently.

"_**Don't die…it would be waste of potential if you do…." **_He muttered nostalgically. Fuuta scooted closer.

"Then what happened?"

"Then…I don't know."

Fuuta watched as the boy's grip on his hospital gown tightened in his growing frustration and anxiety. He was really trying to piece everything together, but his mind was still hazy. Fuuta figured that the boy needed some time to sort everything out in his mind before piecing it together out loud.

"That's okay," Fuuta began amiably, "We can figure it out later. For now, we should get that thing off of you, so that you can see."

"The code…" The boy muttered to himself. Fuuta stared at him oddly. "Code?"

"The boy, he…he told me the code…ugh…" The green-haired youth groaned painfully as he tried to remember the release code for the inhibitor. "It's…um…4307…12…I…I can't remember the rest." He said dejectedly, his shoulders sagging a bit in frustration.

Fuuta frowned slightly, before suddenly brightening back up.

"Don't worry, we can just crack it open with a screwdri-"

"NO!" The boy shouted frightfully. Fuuta slapped a hand over his mouth to silence him. He stared at the door for a minute, listening for any movement down the hall.

After a few nerve-wrecking seconds, he released the boy's mouth with a sigh. "Don't shout. If my parents wake up and find you here, they'll call those two big men from the hospital and they'll take you back."

"Sorry. But please, don't try to pry it off."

"Why not?"

"It'll hook on if you try to forcefully remove it. You have to put the code in."

"_Hook _on?" Fuuta made a pained face. He certainly did not want to be the one to subject the boy to _that_.

The boy nodded. "I told you, they're bad people there. They put hooks in as a defense-mechanism, in the case that someone escapes." Fuuta swallowed thickly as he observed the device with a more wary eye.

"Okay…I'll try to put those numbers you said in and see what happens."

With that, Fuuta sat himself on the edge of the tub behind the green-haired youth, and punched in the numbers he had said previously.

"Good news and bad news," Fuuta said after a moment. The boy turned his head back towards the smaller boy.

"What's wrong?"

"The good news is that the numbers you gave me were accepted, but…"

"What's the bad news?"

"Those numbers are green, which means that they're right, I guess, but there are still two blank spaces open. Can you remember the numbers at all?"

The boy made a thoughtful noise. The two sat in silence for several minutes as he tried his hardest to remember the rest of the code the mysterious boy from before had given him before departing. After nearly five minutes, the boy sighed and slumped against Fuuta's leg.

"I don't know."

Fuuta's shoulders sagged a bit, feeling the same disappointment that the boy did.

"Hey wait a minute," Fuuta started. The boy tilted his head again towards the small brunette planted behind him. "What is it?"

Fuuta pulled his head closer. "It's only ten numbers, zero to nine. Why don't I just guess the last two?"

The boy nodded reluctantly.

"I guess there's no harm in that."

Fuuta beamed down at the boy, not that he could see it or anything. If there was one thing Fuuta was good at, it was guessing things. The small boy had a strong sense of instinct, and that natural intuition hadn't let him down yet.

"Alright then, here we go."

Fuuta let his large brown eyes wander from key to key, number to number, keeping in tune to the reaction or lackthereof from his body. When he got _that feeling_ in the pit of his stomach, he would know which one was the right one. After a moment, his eyes settled on the number seven.

"Aha." He said quietly as he gingerly tapped the 'seven' button. A green seven appeared in the code box next to the rest of the code. Fuuta resisted the urge to do a little victory jiggle.

"One down, one to go." He said happily, his smile widening a bit when he noticed the green-haired boy's slightly upturned lips. Fuuta returned his focus back to the keypad.

One number left.

One out of ten.

The silence of the bathroom was ringing loud in Fuuta's wary mind. That had been _too_ easy. Something wasn't right.

Fuuta suddenly started to get a bit concerned. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that raised the pressure he was feeling to get the last number right. If he didn't guess right, he inherently knew something was going to happen. Things just always seemed to work out that way.

He slowly raised a clamly little hand and let it hover over the keypad as he looked at each individual button. One? No. Two? No. Three? Hmm… Fuuta thought a little bit. Perhaps.

He pushed it.

And sure enough, a red 'three' popped up on the code box, and the device started beeping.

"What's wrong?" The boy suddenly asked frantically, panic creeping into his previously monotone voice. Fuuta felt just as panicked as he did, if not more.

"I don't know! I hit the wrong number and it started beeping."

"Hurry, try again!" The boy ushered urgently.

Fuuta took several slow deep breaths to calm his shaky nerves. "Okay, okay. I can do this."

"You're doing fine." The boy said, trying his best to sound reassuring, despite the nervous shakiness in his tone.

Trying to ignore the beeping, which was thankfully just quiet enough so that his parents wouldn't hear it down the hall, Fuuta looked over the keypad again. Okay. So three was out. That left nine other numbers. Fuuta swallowed thickly. That infernal beeping was wearing his nerves down, making him lose focus.

He** had** to get it right this time.

Fuuta willed his rapidly beating heart to slow as he stared hard at each individual number. After several discerning minutes, he finally settled on the 'six' button.

"Six." He whispered to himself as he raised a shaky hand to tap the button. A glaring red 'six' popped up spitefully in the code box, the device beginning to vibrate erratically. Fuuta could hear the boy beginning to hyperventilate from the anxiety the beeping machine was creating in both of them.

"Fuuta," He choked, his voice several octaves higher than normal.

"Oh God, Oh God," Fuuta chanted frightfully to himself as he grabbed frustratedly at his auburn locks. The beeping of the machine was reaching urgent speeds, and the erratic vibrations made the boy clutch at the device, pained whimpers escaping his lips every so often.

Fuuta frantically looked over the keypad.

Last chance.

If he got it wrong… he didn't want to think about what might happen. He took a long deep breath and put a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Nine." He said determinedly. The boy nodded his head. "O-okay." He agreed anxiously.

With that, Fuuta settled his index finger over the 'nine' button and closed his eyes as he pushed it. He heard a series of mechanical beeps, each at different tones and then he heard a 'click.'

Cracking one eye open, he heaved a grand sigh of relief at the sight of a perfectly green row of numbers in the code box. The device clicked several times; Fuuta could decipher each individual mechanism unlocking until, after nearly a minute, the device shut off and slid down the crown of the boy's head. The mint-haired youth reached up, cupping the inhibitor in anxious hands and pulled it cautiously off of his head.

He settled the heavy metal instrument on the tiled floor with a heavy 'clunk', shaking out his shaggy, pastel-green hair out and looked around. Fuuta was in awe of this unique looking boy.

His eyes, which were squinted slightly in an attempt to get used to the lighting of the bathroom, were nearly as green as his hair. His face was ghostly white, aside from the slight flush of his cheeks. His expression was unreadable. Fuuta dared to say that the boy looked almost blank.

After a minute or two, the boy's minty eyes settled on Fuuta. The two stared at each other for several minutes. And then, the corners of the boy's lips twitched upward in a nearly imperceptible smile.

"You have a lovely bathroom." He said frankly.

And with that, Fuuta promptly burst into a fit of giggles. What a strange thing to say after such a harrowing ordeal. But somehow, Fuuta wasn't surprised that this boy would say something like that.

_Nothing_ about this whole situation was normal. Least of all this deadpanned boy that was at the center of it.

* * *

><p>"So…I don't really know how to make anything, and my mom didn't cook today…I'll see what I can find in here…" Fuuta trailed off as he poked his small head around in the refrigerator. The two now sat calmly in the kitchen, looking for a snack. After the nerve-wrecking ordeal they had had in the bathroom, the two sat in the bathroom for a while, mostly so that the mint-haired youth eye's could adjust to the light, as well as for him to walk around a bit, in order to get his atrophy-ridden leg muscles to function properly again. After an hour, the boys' stomaches both rumbled loudly, and Fuuta decided the two should share an extremely early breakfast together.<p>

The sun was just beginning to rise; the sky was a breathtaking erray of pastel pinks and oranges in the horizon of the Italian countryside. Fuuta couldn't believe he had actually stayed up all night. But strangely, he didn't feel an ounce of exhaustion.

Fortunately it was Saturday and as such, Fuuta parents, who were both work-a-holics in denial, took full advatnage of their free day and slept in until the better part of the morning.

And so, the two were invading the kitchen.

Said boy was currently occupying a barstool at the marble island in the center of Fuuta's modest kitchen, gingerly sipping a cup of orange juice. Fuuta had spent the better part of their short time in the kitchen scouring their rather empty fridge for something to eat, and so far, his search had been fruitless.

Suddenly, he spotted something near the back of the fridge.

The brunette child's smile widened as he read the label and immediately grabbed the six pack and brought it with him to the table.

"Do you like chocolate pudding?" He asked affably. The boy, who had been looking around idly, settled his half-lidded emerald gaze on the smaller boy curiously.

"I've never had it."

Fuuta's eyes widened comically at the blasphemous statement. What kid has never eaten chocolate pudding?

"Here, have one. You'll love it." Fuuta said cheerfully as he snapped two pudding cups out of the package; handing one to the boy and keeping the other for himself. He grabbed two spoons out of the drawer and handed one to the green-haired child, who inspected his own cup curiously for nearly a minute before finally peeling the top off and taking a bite.

He suddenly sat stark still with the spoon in his mouth, his eyes widening slightly.

Fuuta, who was finished with his cup, hopped down from the opposite barstool, and threw his in the trash.

"I'm gonna go grab you a change of clothes. Don't move okay?"

There was no reaction from the boy, who was still sampling the pudding inquisitively. Fuuta giggled at the boy's odd eating mannerisms, and walked up the stairs.

He came back several minutes later, with a large t-shirt and shorts in hand. They were the largest things he could find in his room, and he hoped that they fit. Fuuta walked into the kitchen humming quietly to himself and stopped upon taking in the sight of the mint-haired youth.

Fuuta slapped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from bursting out laughing.

The boy was sitting cross-legged on top of the counter, with all of his fingers jammed impatiently into one of the small pudding cups. There were several empty cups littered around him, and he had globs of chocolate all over his face and on his hospital gown.

It was really quite a sight.

Upon noticing his presence, the boy paused mid-bite, and calmly swallowed the huge glob of pudding he had in his mouth.

"This is the best thing I've ever had." He said in a deadpanned voice, his expression equally blank. At that moment, Fuuta lost it. The boy fell to the floor in raucous laughter, clutching at his sides.

He had a feeling he'd be doing that a lot with this boy around.

But as soon as the laughter started, it immediately stopped, instead being replaced by fear. Fuuta's large brown eyes widened even further upon hearing a tired male voice coming down the stairs.

"Fuuta? What are you doing down there?"

* * *

><p>Dun Dun DUN! Cliffhanger!<p>

Read and review darlings! The next chapter will be up soon!

Sushi*Bomb out!


	3. And smiled

A/N: It's here guys. The official last chapter of Boulevard Nights. I feel like I'm in the twilight zone or something. *_* I'm actually finishing a story. Holy cow.

I don't have anything to say really, except for that I hope you all enjoy the last chapter. I wanted to explore some relationships in this chapter, most of all the ones between Fuuta and Fran, and the one between Fuuta and his parents. I'm also alluding to some other abilities I think illusionists, Fran in particular, might possibly have. Illusionists aren't just limited to the illusions, after all. Like for example, Mammon/Viper is a psychic, and Mukuro has the ability to possess people. Who is to say Fran doesn't have some special talent too? You'll see what I mean. Lastly, I'm planting some key questions and ideas in your head. I want you guys to be curious as to what the heck was going on in Fran's life before meeting Fuuta. I'm sure some of you are beginning to piece certain clues together, but all will be answered once Fran's bio/character sketch is written later on. You'll just have to wait and see! *winks*

With that being said, read on loves!

Disclaimer: Sushi*Bomb does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! But I do have a cosplay wig. I don't think that counts for much, to be honest. Meh.

* * *

><p>…<em>and smiled as he flew away into the sunrise.<em>

* * *

><p>"Fuuta, what are you doing down there?"<p>

Fuuta and the boy locked eyes for a split second before the small brunette quickly scampered over and ushered the boy down from the counter, all the while shooting nervous glances towards the staircase. He could hear his father's heavy, exhaustion-ridden footsteps slowly coming closer.

"You have to hide!" He whispered hurriedly as he pushed the boy towards the back door, the change of clothes in his arms that he had brought down for the boy frantically tossed into the pantry as he went.

"Fuuta?" His father's voice was just around the corner now. Fuuta gulped. They were done for. His father would get to the kitchen before they made it to the back door. The brunette quickly decided to change tactics. He ushered the boy instead around the back of the island and pushed him into a crouching position.

"Stay here, okay?"

The boy nodded and tightened his hold on his folded legs as he tucked himself against the counter, appearing as if he were trying to make himself physically smaller. With the boy hidden, Fuuta poked his head over the counter just in time to see his father walk around the corner, yawning loudly and scratching his bare stomach.

"Fuuta, what on Earth are you doing down here, and did…did you eat **all** of that pudding at once?" His father asked, hazel eyes widening at the slew of empty pudding cups that littered the top of his marble island.

Fuuta scratched his head sheepishly.

"I was really hungry earlier and I...um…I dunno, I just wanted pudding for some reason, aha...haha…" He muttered with an awkward smile. His father gave him a skeptical look.

"Well at least clean up the mess after you eat, Fuuta. Good Lord…" His father mouthed around another yawn as he walked around the counter towards the refrigerator.

…Right to where the boy was hiding.

Fuuta was unable to prevent the strangled squeak from escaping his tiny mouth as he instinctively looked down at the boy, whose eyes were strangely calm, despite the footsteps drawing nearer to his hiding place.

Fuuta's father stopped dead in his tracks at his son's peculiar reaction. He gave the boy an odd look, before a knowing look spread across his handsome face.

"Are you hiding something, Fuuta?" He asked, the barest hint of a smirk appearing on his face as he walked closer to the brunette child. Fuuta shook his head quickly in denial, but it was too late. His father almost always knew when he was lying.

"Fuuta, if it's another kitten you found in the yard, I told you that they need to stay outside with their mothers. You don't know if they have fleas or anything like that." His father said sternly as he quickly walked around the counter.

Fuuta closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable 'Who the hell?' from his father. But to his surprise, he heard his father make a little noise of…adoration?

"I have to admit though," he heard his father mutter softly as he crouched down, "this little guy is pretty adorable. But he has to stay outside with his mom Fuuta, you know that."

Fuuta cracked an eye open and peered down. In place of the green-haired boy, sat a small, pure black kitten. Its bright green eyes shone as it hissed wildly at Fuuta's father, who was slowly reaching towards it.

Fuuta scratched at his head. …_What on Earth…?_

Fuuta's father chuckled. "Feisty little guy, isn't he?" He said as the kitten's ears folded back menacingly. It puffed it's fur out in order to make itself look bigger, all the while hissing loudly in an attempt to be intimidating. Fortunately, that seemed to be enough to deter Fuuta's father, who instantly retracted his hand and stood up.

The tall, sandy-haired man chuckled quietly as he grabbed a water bottle out of the refrigerator.

"That kitten might be feral Fuuta. He should really be outside with his mom. If your mother finds another stray in the house, you know what'll happen." His father said, taking a sip of his water as he made his way out of the kitchen. Fuuta, who was still more than a bit baffled by the sudden appearance of the cat, nodded.

"Okay daddy, I'll put him back, I promise. I just wanted to feed him, that's all." He said as cutely as he could manage. His father was a lot more passive about these things than his mother was. The older man just waved it off dismissively.

"Alright, alright. Just make sure he's back outside before your mother wakes up. And please," His father started as he motioned towards the island exasperatedly, "clean up this mess, Fuuta. You're not a baby anymore."

Fuuta nodded silently.

"And keep quiet down here, okay? Your mother went to sleep in a pretty foul mood . You really don't want her to come down here, I can tell you that." His father said half-jokingly.

"Are you going back to sleep, daddy?" Fuuta asked quietly. In response, the tall man yawned loudly and stretched his arms.

"Definitely. See you in a few hours, kiddo." His father said tiredly as he ruffled Fuuta's sandy hair before turning and making to disappear up the stairs, when there was suddenly a knock at the front door. Fuuta and his father shared a curious look.

Who on Earth could be knocking at this hour?

With a muttered 'who the hell could that be at six in the morning?,' Fuuta's father left the kitchen to answer the door. Fuuta gave the 'kitten' behind the counter a bewildered glance before running after his father. He entered the leaving room just as a familiar, albeit unwelcome, face was invited into his living room.

"Hey uh, Fuuta, this guy says you can help him with something." His father said, his face riddled with confusion. It was one of the men from earlier. Fuuta felt several beads of sweat form on his neck.

Not now.

Not when he had no idea where the green-haired boy was hiding.

"Hey there, kid," the uniformed man began as he took the seat on the couch offered by Fuuta's father, "I have a few things I'd like to ask you."

Fuuta nodded slowly. "Um…ok-okay." He stuttered quietly. His father looked between the two curiously. The petite child cautiously planted himself on the recliner across from the burly hospital worker. The man leaned forward, his dark eyes locking with Fuuta's own large brown ones intimidatingly.

"We've gotten several reports from your neighbors about a…_disturbance_, last night, coming from your yard. Can you tell me anything about that?" The man began, a hard edge in his deep voice. Fuuta unconsciously gulped.

Curse his nosy neighbors. What were they doing up at that hour anyway?

"Fuuta, what's he talking about?" His father asked seriously, but the man raised a hand to silence him, not once taking his eyes off of the small child. Fuuta's nervous gaze shifted rapidly between the two men as he tried to think up an answer.

"Well, that was when I got home. I came in through the backyard." Fuuta said quietly. His father turned to him with a disbelieving glare.

"What the hell where you doing out at night? And by yourself no less!" He barked. The man once again raised a hand to calm Fuuta's father. "Please sir, let me just get the information I need, and then I'll be on my way." The man turned back to Fuuta.

"I remember we sent you home at around, oh, five-fifteen or so, correct?" The man said with an oddly neutral look. Fuuta shrugged. "I don't know what time it was."

The man nodded slowly as he mulled over what Fuuta said. After a minute, he spoke again. "Well I remember perfectly. We sent you home at exactly five-seventeen, and if I'm not mistaken, it takes about, oh, say ten minutes to get here from where we were, right?" He questioned again, a hard glint in his dark eyes.

Fuuta felt his heart racing wildly. The man was on to him. "I-I guess." He muttered as he tried his best to avoid the man's hard, dissecting glare.

"Now meanwhile, the police station began receiving reports of a strange person skulking around Vittorio at around five. Several of your immediate neighbors said they saw an unusual figure in their yards. And it apparently was having some sort of difficulty finding it's way. The last report came in at exactly five- twenty two, about five minutes before I estimate you arrived back here, correct?" The man probed inquisitively as he leaned closer to Fuuta, who shrunk back into the cushion of the recliner.

Fuuta's father stepped towards the man. "Just what are getting at? Are you implying that my son is responsible for something?" He snapped, his volume escalating rapidly. The man simply shook his head.

"No, not at all. However, I think he knows a little more than he's letting on." The man said as he leveled Fuuta with a stern glare. "Your neighbors said that they heard some strange noises coming from your backyard around that time, and they also said that your porchlight came on and stayed on for quite a while before it went out. You seem like you're used to running around in the dark, so any particular reason you felt you needed the light on?"

Fuuta shook his head. "It… comes on automatically. I guess… I tripped it up." He stuttered out. The man sat back against the couch, his steely eyes narrowing slightly at Fuuta's nervous, fidgety movements. The man folded his large arms across his broad chest. "Somehow, I doubt that." He said gravely. Fuuta's father growled.

"Look asshole, just tell me what it is your accusing my son of! Out with it!" The tall, sandy-haired man shouted. The orderly looked over his shoulder at the older man.

"A patient escaped from our hospital earlier this evening, and your son happened to be out at that hour. Truthfully, I find it very difficult to believe that he made it all the way here without seeing anything." He said harshly. Fuuta sank further into the cushion as the man turned his narrowed eyes back to him.

"Well?"

The small child just clenched his eyes closed as he shook his head. "I swear, I didn't see anything. I came right home and went inside. I made the light come on by accident." He said as calmly as he could.

"You're lying. You know something, and I can see it." The man said sternly as he stood up to his full height. He walked over and crouched in front of Fuuta's trembling form.

"Look kid, this isn't a joke. This patient is extremely dangerous. He's been in a drug-induced coma for years, and has never been outside, so it's very possible that he may be disoriented. That boy is a danger to himself, and possibly to those around him as well. Now if you saw something, you **have** to tell me."

"Fuuta, please. If you saw something, tell him." His father interjected officiously from behind the man. Fuuta looked back and forth between the two older men. His tiny heart was beating rapidly in his chest, the pressure of the impromptu interrogation sending his anxiety through the roof. On the outside however, he kept his face as earnest as he could. He slowly shook his head.

"I'm sorry mister, but I really didn't see or hear anything. If there was someone around, they weren't anywhere near here. My neighbors must be confused. It was pretty early after all." Fuuta said innocently. The man's eyes, if possible, narrowed even further as he pinned Fuuta with a subzero glare.

"But-"He began again before Fuuta's father intervened. "He already said he didn't see anything, sir. Stop trying to intimidate my seven-year-old son into telling you things that you want to hear. I think it would be best if you left." Fuuta's father said curtly as he motioned to the front door.

The man sighed, shaking his head as he stood once again and walked to the door. Before exiting, he turned to Fuuta with a hard glare. "I know you're lying kid. I've worked with people long enough to know when someone's bullshitting me, and I know you know where he is, if you don't already have him stashed away in here somewhere. You're not doing anything to help him, believe me."

"Leave." Fuuta's father snapped. The man raised his hand in defense. "Fine. But you'll be hearing from _Osservanza_ very soon, I can assure you that. You have no idea just who it is you're messing with." He said threateningly.

"And Fran," The man called into the house slowly, "if you **are** here, I wouldn't recommend staying in one place too long. I know you wouldn't want anything …_unfortunate_, to happen to this nice family, would you?"

At that moment, the black kitten meandered out of the kitchen and hopped onto the couch next to Fuuta, it's emerald green eyes locked on the orderly. The man gave the kitten a curious look when it sat down, not once breaking eye contact.

"There's no one by that name here, and there is most certainly no need to threaten us, sir. If we see anything, we'll be sure to call your establishment. Now leave." Fuuta's father said once again as he forcefully ushered the man out the door. "Good luck with your search." He said tersely before closing the door in the man's face. He turned to Fuuta with an incredulous look.

"Fuuta, what the hell was_ that_ about?" He barked as he sat on the couch where the man had been previously, leveling his only son with a stern, patriarchal glare. Fuuta could only grimace awkwardly. "Well…you and mommy were yelling so loud last night…I got scared, so I...I went out for a bit."

At the mention of the argument, the older man's eyes softened sadly. "Oh Fuuta, I'm sorry you had to hear that." Fuuta jumped up quickly at the pained look on his father's face. "It's okay daddy, I didn't hear much, honest. But when I was out, I ran into that man, and he said they were looking for an escaped patient. He gave me his card." Fuuta said, his big brown eyes widening innocuously as he retold the events leading up to this moment to his father.

Without mentioning the green-haired boy, of course.

Fuuta's father gave him a dubious look. "But, there's no truth to what he's saying…is there?"

"What do you mean daddy?"

"You-you really didn't see anything or any_one_, did you?" The sandy-haired man asked as he leaned closer to Fuuta. "You'd tell me if you saw someone like _that_ around, right?"

_Normally._ Fuuta thought with a mental frown."Yes papa, of course I would tell you." Fuuta said with a small smile. The older man returned the gesture as he stood up and yawned.

"Alright then kiddo, if you say you didn't see anything, that's good enough for me. I'm heading back to sleep for a bit. Try to keep it down, alright? It's early."

Fuuta nodded quickly. "Don't worry daddy, I'm going back to sleep soon too, I was just hungry."

The older man chuckled softly as he patted the small boy's head, giving it a hardy noogie before turning and disappearing up the stairs. Fuuta craned his head to follow his father's figure up the staircase. The petite boy held his breath until he was sure he heard the bedroom door close quietly. As soon as it clicked, he let out a shaky, exhausted breath.

"Phew." He said as he turned around, only to come face-to-face with the green haired boy. Fuuta shrieked as he collapsed in a heap on the floor, clutching at his tiny chest. The boy crouched down with his hands on his knees.

"Sorry Fuuta." The boy whispered, his voice low and deadpanned. Fuuta gaped at him.

"H-how did you do that?" He stuttered. The boy tilted his head to the side. "Do what?"

"You…you turned into a cat!"Fuuta screeched. The boy shook his head calmly. "No I didn't. I just made them _think_ they were seeing a cat. I was standing behind you the whole time."

Fuuta stared at the boy strangely. That statement had rung a bell somewhere in his young but sharp mind.

Someone who can _make_ others think they're seeing something that's not really there…

"_I can do things. With my mind, I mean."_

Trickery of the mind and senses… _illusions_…

Fuuta's eyes widened with realization as he looked at the boy, who was occupied with picking a loose thread out of his hospital gown.

"You're an illusionist, aren't you?"

The boy suddenly looked up.

"Yeah, that's what the boy that helped me escape said too. How did you know that?" He asked curiously.

Fuuta smiled knowingly.

Now it all made a bit of sense. Fuuta honestly couldn't understand why it hadn't occurred to him sooner. As the infamous Ranking Fuuta, he had of course met his fair share of illusionists.

To the trained eye, it was not difficult to separate an illusionist out of a crowd; they were indistinctly distinct, everywhere and nowhere at once. It had always baffled Fuuta that a person could have such an ability as to blend so seamlessly into a throng of people, yet stand out so noticably.

In his experience, an illusionist was usually the one in a group of thugs that stood aloof, keeping more to themselves, and was usually silent to the extent that Fuuta would believe them to be mute. But what Fuuta always made a mental note of was that there was always something…_off_… about them. Be it some sort of physical anomaly, like an odd facial marking or tattoo, or in the boy's case, a peculiar hair color, there was always something, well, _not quite right_ about those with the gift of casting spells over one's mind. Fuuta supposed these distinctions in their characters were something of a testament to their abilities to alter one's perception of reality.

They were a mysterious and eerily unstable bunch, the illusionists. Many considered them the Illuminati in the realm of organized crime, a secret society of conniving Houdinis that worked their magic behind the scenes in the world of the Italian Mafia. Theirs was a world shrouded in dark secrets and hushed whispers; they knew and did things that people weren't supposed to be able to. As Fuuta replayed the bits and pieces of their conversation from earlier in his head, Fuuta realized that it made sense now that the boy had these abilities.

He had heard stories about more powerful illusionists occasionally being prone to fits of psychosis and nervous breakdowns because they sometimes had trouble distinguishing fantasy from reality, the real world from the worlds of their own creation. And although the boy seemed to be able to control his abilities to quite an extent for someone his age, he was still a kid…Fuuta supposed that an episode like that in an illusionist so young would frighten him (not to mention those around him) to the point of hospitalization. The idea didn't seem too far-fetched at all.

In fact, Fuuta had a feeling that that scenario was very close to the actual truth.

"It makes sense. I don't know many people with naturally bright green hair." Fuuta said around a giggle. The boy ran his wiry fingers through his pastel green locks curiously.

"I've met a few people like you before. That's how I figured it out, and I bet that's the reason why you were in that place. You didn't seem like a crazy person." Fuuta continued.

"I'm not crazy." The boy repeated quietly, more to himself than Fuuta. His mint eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at a strand of hair that had come loose in his hand. It seemed that that little utterance stirred something within the boy.

"Are you okay?" Fuuta asked worriedly when the boy remained silent for several minutes, his thin eyebrows furrowing more and more as he appeared to remember something unpleasant. It appeared that the boy was deep in thought about something. His previously lethargic and dazed demeanor due to the heavy medication had faded away. The boy was now completely lucid; his eyes still held that same half-lidded blankness, though Fuuta could almost see the metaphorical gears turning in the sharp-witted mind he was now certain this boy possessed that was so distinctive of one with his particular 'gifts.'

Fuuta waved a hand in front of the boy's face. The boy immediately snapped out of his thoughts to follow the small hand. His face regained its usual deadpanned expression and Fuuta instantaneously felt relieved. The boy's face was not one meant to harbinger such emotions as irritation and anger. In fact, it was a face that was not meant to convey any sort of emotion period.

"I can't stay here much longer." He whispered suddenly. Fuuta frowned. He knew the boy had a point, but…but what would he do to survive on his own? Fuuta felt a sort of brotherly responsbility developing in him towards this strange boy, despite the short time they had known each other.

"Please, you don't need to leave yet. You can do that illusion thing if they come back again, I'll protect you-" Fuuta stopped as the boy solemnly shook his head.

"You don't understand. They're evil people at that place, Fuuta. No one's ever gotten out of that place alive, and they'll do anything to get their patients back. You can't fool them for too long. They know that I'm here, and they'll keep coming back. They'll do bad things to you, to your family, whatever it takes to get me back. They do bad things to people there Fuuta, and…" The boy trailed off, his thin fingers tracing the edges of the bandage wrapped around his forearm.

Fuuta frowned.

He honestly didn't want to think about the consequences of his actions at the moment, but he knew he couldn't push them aside. This was a serious mess of trouble he had landed himself in, and he questioned himself as to why he had put himself through this. But one look at the quiet gratefulness in the boy's benevolent green eyes, and Fuuta had his answer.

The boy suddenly yawned. Right on cue, Fuuta felt all of the exhaustion he had pushed aside throughout the evening come rushing back all at once. Almost as soon as the boy closed his mouth, Fuuta's own mouth expanded in a particularly loud and exaggerated yawn. The two sat on the floor of the living room, rubbing their eyes tiredly for several minutes before Fuuta stood up, pulling the young illusionist up with him.

"We should sleep for a while. We've both had a long night and the best thing to do now is to get some rest. We'll figure everything else out later." Fuuta said quietly as he lead the boy back up the stairs towards his bedroom.

The boy said nothing in response, instead nodding silently around another stifled yawn. Once in the safety of Fuuta's bedroom, the brunette closed the door softly before running over to the opposite side of his room, quickly locking the window and drawing the blinds shut. He grabbed a spare quilt from out of his closet and laid it out on the plush carpet and tossed a couple of his fluffiest pillows towards the head of the makeshift bed.

"My bed's kinda small," he began softly as he crawled up on his own bed and wriggled under the sheets, "…so I hope you don't mind sleeping on the floor. But that quilt's really comfy, I promise." He finished quickly. But it appeared that the boy hadn't even considered the thought of sleeping on the floor the least bit repugnant. The mint-haired youth calmly sunk to his knees and let himself fall face-first into the comfort of the thick pillow and quilt Fuuta had so kindly laid out for him.

He heard a muffled, 'it's wonderful,' from the boy. Soft snores followed only minutes later.

Fuuta giggled into his hand. The boy was truly exhausted, and he deserved every ounce of rest he could possibly get. Fuuta was certain he was going to need it soon.

The sandy-haired child rolled over to lie on his back. He idly cradled his hands behind his head as he stared up at the glow-in-the-dark planets and stars on his pastel blue ceiling. One tiny piece of the puzzle was now solved.

The boy was a natural spellcaster, Fuuta knew that much. But this one tiny answer led to a multitude of new questions. Fuuta had no doubt in his mind that the boy's illusory abilities were directly linked to his status as a 'mental patient.' The question was how and why those abilities had landed him in a drug-induced coma.

How many years _had_ the boy been asleep anyway?

Fuuta figured it was definitely over two years, if not more, simply because of the extent of the atrophy the boy's leg muscles had exhibited. What had happened all of those years ago? Did the boy suffer some sort of psychotic break? Fuuta couldn't think of many other possibilities. On the surface, the boy _seemed_ stable enough, but Fuuta knew better than to assume. Like his father always said, '_When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me.'_

Fuuta chuckled softly at the odd was certainly applicable in this situation, that was for sure.

The boy was not _emotionless_, per se; that was evident in the ordeal they had gone through in removing that devilish device from his head. It was safe to say that the boy clearly feared for his life at that moment. And yet, even then, he seemed more alarmed than genuinely frightened. Fuuta was sure that if it had been _him_, he would have been screaming and crying regardless of any sort of adverse consequences.

But afterward, the boy's entire demeanor shifted to one of relative calm, and almost comical monotony. He had never met anyone with such a detached personality. The only people he personally knew of that were like that, according to his mother, were sociopaths.

Fuuta glanced over at the boy curiously.

He certainly didn't _seem_ like a sociopath, although his classification as an illusionist required a certain level of sociopathy in order to be effective. Fuuta had seen what truly twisted and powerful illuionists were capable of.

He swallowed thickly as he returned his gaze back to his stars.

It most definitely took someone with little to no remorse to be able to get inside someone's mind, poke around in their most private fears and thoughts, and project them onto a person's surroundings, all the while watching calmly as the unfortunate victim of their illusory trickery tore themselves apart from the sheer panic.

That, to Fuuta, was far crueler than any physical harm a person could cause another person. He could understand why the orderly was so set on getting him back. He wouldn't want someone with those kinds of abilities running around by themselves either. But...

He rolled over to stare at the slumbering youth once again. The boy was nice, albeit _unique_. He couldn't possibly be capable of the things he had seen others like him do in the past...could he?

And what of the mysterious stranger that turned the boy loose?

Based on what the boy had told him earlier, Fuuta could infer that the person who released the boy currently snuggling a pillow not three feet from him was most likely an illusionist or some sort of spellcaster themselves.

But then…why just free _him_, and not run away themselves?

From what the boy had told him, as well as from what he had gathered in the orderly's visit, _Osservanza_ was a truly hellish place. Cruel, inhumane things happened within those walls, and the staff of that devilish hospital went to great lengths to ensure that the general public remained oblivious. No one had ever escaped from there alive, and those that attempted were hunted down like animals and dragged back, clawing and scratching. Dead or alive.

No matter what the cost.

Why would someone risk getting caught in order to free someone else, without leaving themselves? What reason could there possibly be?

The questions just kept piling up in Fuuta's mind, no matter how much he willed himself to fall asleep.

Illusionists were a breed apart, alright.

Their entire existences hindered on lies and truths, riddles and puzzles, and mountains of questions that only led to dead-ends. And although it was clearly not his intention, this young mint-haired youth was proving to be just as enigmatic as his illusory counterparts.

Fuuta rubbed his face tiredly. This was all too much to contemplate at seven in the morning. He promptly rolled over, assuming the same sleeping position as the boy currently in his care, and forced himself to rest.

* * *

><p>"Fuuta?"<p>

Fuuta's large brown eyes cracked open slowly at the soft knocking on his bedroom door. He rubbed a sleepy eye blearily as he glanced at the small digital clock on his nightstand. It was already well into the late afternoon.

"Fuuta honey, are you up?" His mother called worriedly from the other side of the door. The small boy suddenly jerked into full consciousness and sprang up from the bed. "Yes mommy, I'm awake!" He shouted back as he bent over the mint-haired youth and shook his shoulder. The boy batted his hand away and rolled over.

"Hey, come on," Fuuta whispered in his ear softly as the knocking on his door grew more persistent.

"Fuuta please! This is serious, open the door right now!" His mother shouted frantically through the door. Fuuta heard several voices downstairs. One was his father's, and he sounded angry. There were two, possibly three others down there with him. They seemed to be arguing.

Fuuta felt lightheaded all of a sudden.

He shook the boy harder. "Please wake up! I think those men are back for you!" He whispered heatedly as he jerked the boy up from the floor and hurriedly kicked the makeshift bed under his own bed.

"Wha?" The boy muttered groggily, his low voice still heavy with sleep. Fuuta rounded on him, his large eyes even wider in his urgency.

"You have to hide, those men are back for you-"

"No! You can't come up here! You have no right!" Fuuta's head snapped towards the door as he heard his mother shouting outside the door. He felt several sets of heavy footsteps storming up the small staircase, directly towards his room.

"Move aside bitch, this doesn't concern you. We're here for the boy." He heard the man from earlier bark at his mother before he heard a stinging 'slap' and a body hitting the floor.

"Mommy!" He screamed, tears immediately rushing to his eyes. He turned to the boy in fear.

"What do we do?" he hiccupped, uncontrollable sobs beginning to rack his small body. The boy was oddly placid as he stared at the door, which was being pummeled into by a large body. Once, twice, three times. The thin door began splintering in the center from the force of the man's body repeatedly smashing into it.

"Fran! We know you're in there! You must come back with us!" Fuuta heard one of the men shout. Despite himself, he couldn't help but look at the boy curiously. So his name was Fran? But that train of thought was quickly disrupted by another loud 'crack' in his door.

"I'm not going back." Fran, as he now knew the boy was named, said calmly, his small body not even flinching at the airborne slivers of wood flying off from the door.

"Of course you are, kid. You wouldn't want us to hurt your little friend and his family, would you?" The man from earlier said menacingly as part of the door finally caved open and a thick hand reached in to unlock it.

Fuuta was near hysterics. He could see the prone form of his mother just outside the large crack in his door, slumpled over on her side behind the men. The small brunette bit his finger anxiously as he slapped away the now free-falling tears from his cherubic face.

Was she alive?

He felt his breathing begin to accelerate rapidly when a he suddenly felt a light weight on his shoulder.

"Don't worry," Fran began softly, "she's alive, just unconscious." Fuuta felt a swell of relief fill his small chest.

And then the boy said something most peculiar.

"I think it's best if you were too."

And then Fuuta began to feel sickeningly dizzy. His head was spinning, and he was seeing triples of the green-haired boy as well as the battered doorway finally crashing open behind him, and several large men rushing in.

Fuuta felt nauseous.

"I could've protected you…" He muttered dazedly as he sunk to floor, his eyelids growing heavy. The triple-set of boys shook their heads.

"You already did enough for me. Now I have to save you." The boy said. His voice sounded muffled for some reason. As if he were speaking through a puddle or something. He felt as everything was suddenly moving in slow motion. Fuuta's eyelids drooped even more as he felt an immense wave of exhaustion sweep his small body.

"Please, don't…" He pleaded softly. At that moment, Fuuta felt a cool, soothing hand cover his eyes, gently coaxing his eyelids shut. The last thing he saw before his vision faded was the small, reassuring smile on Fran's pale face. "It's alright Fuuta," He heard Fran's distinctly mellow voice from amidst the shouts and barks of the orderlies, "sleep now."

As Fuuta's mind drifted into a heavy fog, he heard Fran say one last thing, his low voice tinted with a cold detachment.

_"You don't need to see this."_

* * *

><p>Wow…my first officially complete multi-chapter story! *Is proud* Yay! I know the ending is sort of… abrupt, but I promise it's like that for a reason. When I write Fran's story later on, you'll understand everything that happened. I don't want to go into too much detail just yet. If I give away one little thing, it could spoil everything. So, be patient!<p>

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, faved, and alerted! I hope you enjoyed reading this little story. Especially Reid, who this story was written for! Love ya pal!

Don't forget to leave me a nice review if you enjoyed the story!

Okay guys, Sushi*Bomb, OUT!


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